


Damp

by levele3



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Damp, Gen, POV Crowley (Good Omens), Short One Shot, fic based on art, observational piece
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:47:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26510878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levele3/pseuds/levele3
Summary: Crowley is less than impressed with his relocation."After 4000 years of blistering Mediterranean sun this was to be his new home. It was Hell on Earth."
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 13





	Damp

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhiteleyFoster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteleyFoster/gifts).



> This fic is based on the amazing piece of art work by Whiteley Foster known as [Damp](https://whiteleyfoster.tumblr.com/post/626349720629035008/i-imagine-crowley-a-snake-who-had-been-enjoying).

Crowley surveyed his surroundings, his eyes narrowed and a snarl on his thin lips.

Only one word came to mind to describe the desolate scrub-land around him; Damp.

After 4000 years of blistering Mediterranean sun that warmed his inner snake this was to be his new home. It was Hell on earth. The bitter cold cut through his thin robes and he shivered, tightening his arms, already folded across his chest, around his middle in an attempt to hold in the warmth.

The sunlight here, if it could be called such, was grey and watery hardly strong enough to break through the fog and cloud cover that pervaded in the area. 

First impressions weren’t everything but they did hold rather a lot of weight. And this, this _Britten_ , only served to remind Crowley of the darker places of Hell. 

But this of course was _before_.

Before he heard the mourning winds across her moors. 

Before he was baptized by the frigid waters of her lakes and streams.

Before he ate of her apples. 

Before he became the black knight and met an angel in a field and the exchange went like this.

“So, we are both working _very_ hard in damp places and just cancelling each other out,” Crowley bemoaned.

And the angel replied, “It is a bit damp, isn’t it.”

And the demon felt justified with his first impression after all.

Before he realised this island in a sea of troubles was his new Eden and the only one that mattered. 

Before an angel and a demon dined at the Ritz and cheers “to the world.”

But that was all to come, in the future. For now, Crowley turned to his left further narrowing his eyes.

“Damp,” Crowley said to Beelzebub, “it’s damp.”

“Good, then you should feel right at home,” the petite Prince of Hell replied. 

Crowley didn’t feel at home, not yet.


End file.
